


Sonnet 17

by blackandflaky



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Carlos is Human, Cearl?, Cecil is Mostly Human, Ecil?, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mild Smut, One Shot, One Shot Collection, cecilos - Freeform, possibly smut, what is their ship name goddamnit, wtnv - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-13 16:43:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2157837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackandflaky/pseuds/blackandflaky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a collection of drabbles and one-shots.<br/>I've experienced enough pain with my OTP I deserve this.<br/>Okay. Go forth.<br/>The title, by the way, is one of Shakespeare's sonnets. Basically, it's about this young man who's so beautiful, that even if you wrote the "beauty of his eyes" down, people wouldn't believe that such a beautiful human actually exists. I really like how it reminds me of these two idiots and it's just a wonderful piece and you should totally go check it out, because we're all giant nerds.<br/>Now you can go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beautiful

Cecil has always had an unusually affectionate appreciation for beauty.

It started when he was a kid, just a few years old, still stumbling around on wobbly legs, still unsure of what it meant to be human and he passed the neighbor's kitten. It was a bit like him, he noticed, thin and clumsy, but when he stretched his hands towards it, it made an eager and valiant attempt to quicken its pace. Its eyes were blue, two of them paler than the last, all open. Cecil had, as cautious as a toddler could be, stroked back the short fur from the top of its head, to its tail rod. It was inky black, with a large white circle covering the bridge of its nose, a part of the ears and the neck, and beautiful it was. Cecil had cooed over it that day and every day for the next many months. He'd named it Baldwin, because the white spot made it look like it had gotten an awkward hair cut.

Baldwin, the neighbor's kitten was Cecil's first friend.

* * *

 It continued into his school life, when he found an old radio in a supply closet. He was seven years old and hiding from a boy named Steve Carlsberg, who'd teased him with his birthmarks when he accidentally bumped against something edgy. Cecil had turned around, while rubbing at his sore shoulder - he was a very small boy and it was a very big supply closet - and glanced to his right: On a shelf, until recently covered by a blanket, stood an old black box, with one circular speaker, two circular buttons and one rectangular display that illuminated him and the closet in a beautiful pale blue light. Cecil took it down, not questioning the fact that it wasn't stuck into anything and slid down the back of the closet. It took him several minutes to get any sound out of the radio and then it was just random and eerie scratching, but after further tuning and turning, the noise died down and was replaced with a voice. A voice deep and dark like black velvet, but sweet all the same, like violet silk. Cecil had leaned his head against the back of the closet and closed his eyes, letting the soothing voice comfort him.

The faceless voice in the supply closet was the first encounter Cecil had with the subtle art of hosting a radio show.

* * *

 It kept going when he started high school and his class mates singled out as living individuals. Some of the boys grew longer hair, some of the girls cut theirs off, some got piercings, some tattoos and they were all so very beautiful. He met Earl Harlan on his third day of Freshman year. Earl Harlan had freckles and braces and bright orange hair that stood up in spikes. He introduced himself formally with his back straight and hand drawn forward in an invitation of friendship. An invitation Cecil gladly took. He found Earl just as interesting as Earl found Cecil, it seemed, while every question Cecil asked him was answered with one of his own. Sometimes, Earl would look at Cecil after Cecil had looked away and when Cecil looked back, Earl would blush and it would make his freckles stand out like lanterns and Cecil found him beautiful.

Earl Harlan was Cecil's first kiss.

They dated until Cecil's first year of college, where Cecil broke it off. Earl hadn't cried, but he'd been near it, bottom lip trembling very, very slightly. His eyes were narrowed, not with laughter, nor denial but something that filled Cecil with a level of self-loathing so heavy that it felt like a stab in the chest.

"Why," Earl had asked, voice thick and demanding, "what have I done?" And Cecil had wanted to take Earl's hands in his and apologise a million times, because he hadn't done anything. It wasn't his fault. But he'd lost the braces and his hair had turned a light brown over the years and no matter how much Cecil hated himself for it, he didn't feel the slow spreading of warmth in his chest when he looked at Earl anymore. But he couldn't say that, because Cecil wasn't like other people. Cecil had lilac birthmarks that he was sure moved from time to time and Cecil didn't have any friends and Cecil talked to animals and Cecil wasn't like other people, wasn't beautiful and normal like other people. So instead, he shrugged as though he wasn't pure pain and said the first thing that came to mind, the most used line in every romantic movie he'd ever watched:

"People move on."

Earl had left him alone in his apartment, now half-empty with silence and salty guilt hanging in the air like fog and Cecil felt like the walls were judging him with closed lips and he stopped noticing beauty for many, many years.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He's not sure when his appreciation for it came back. It might've been when he survived the intern post at Night Vale radio station and took over after the previous host - Leonard Berton, bless his soul - had disappeared, but he thinks he's got a better idea: Cecil had never appreciated real beauty before Carlos moved to Night Vale.

Carlos was several years younger than himself and he didn't look like the ideal male model you'd see in magazines - before they were banned, of course. His hair was soft and inky black, but wildly unruly and _all over the place_ and he was clumsy, despite being such a brilliant scientist. He stumbled over his words and spoke very quickly and very quietly, but Cecil would drink up every word he said, eyes trained on Carlos's eyes. And some eyes they were. Dark, warm eyes the color of melted chocolate, glinting genuinly in sun light and moon light and star light. Carlos's hair would - when long enough and not mercilessly violated by a pair of treacherous scissors - fall down in front of his vision and he'd flick his head to get it out of the way, but on one occasion, when Cecil was in his lab on some strictly professional business, he had reached over and gently tucked the dark lock behind Carlos's ear. Carlos had been frozen, staring at the documents on the desk and Cecil could've sworn he saw his dark cheek bones teinted a slightly lighter color.

But Carlos was beautiful and when they started dating - _Carlos is totally my boyfriend!_ \- Cecil almost couldn't believe his luck. He had gotten this heaven-sent opportunity to tell this man, this wonderful, clever, perfect person how beautiful he was. He had gotten the chance to make sure Carlos would never forget it and Cecil wasn't one to waste things like that. The best thing about dating Carlos was, that even though how many times Cecil would fuss and praise and compliment, Carlos would just wrap his strong arms around his waist, or his  shoulders or his neck and with every word Cecil had said, give two in return.

Carlos was the first person to ever tell Cecil that he was beautiful.

 


	2. The Voice and The Scientist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS, I'M SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY OKAY I HAD MOST OF IT FIGURED OUT BUT THEN I HEARD OLD OAK DOORS A AND B AND WAS SLAPPED ACROSS THE FACE WITH SO MANY CHARACTER TRAITS OF CARLOS'S AND I JUST HAD TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT AND NOW IT'S WEIRD AND IT CHANGED A LOT OF STUFF ABOUT HOW I SEE HIM LIKE IT DOESN'T INTERFERE WITH THE LAST CHAPTER BUT ANYWAY THIS IS A BIT RUSHED BECAUSE I WAS GETTING IMPATIENT BUT I KINDA SAW THE LIGHT OKAY SORRY AGAIN HERE WE GO

Exactly how Carlos arrived in Night Vale, is still, for the largest part unknown to him. Sure, he does have a vague and slightly blurry memory of the time just before Night Vale, but the rest is confusing, like one of those memories you aren't sure actually happened. He was visiting his older sister in Mexico but, while loving to be back in the comfortable frames of home, he was still itching to go, to travel and explore, an itch that had been there since he was a kid. Carlos had always been book-smart, more so than his sister who was wild and colorful and lively, but he also had an interest of what happened outside the text synopsis and the test results. What happened if you applied two drops instead of one or if you didn't turn off the gas for a little while longer, or if you, say, set fire to something.

More often than not, the answer to that question would be "it will be on fire" but nonetheless, he would be that experience wiser.

It was a complete coincidence that he found out about Night Vale. In the middle of a sudden fiddle-fit, he proposed to fix Mariam's radio, the one that was still standing on the kitchen counter, but hadn't been making noise for months. It didn't take him long to get sound out of it - one was a scientist after all - and for a few minutes he wasted the time away by tuning in on random stations, his cheek squished hotly against the kitchen counter. Mariam tutted multiple times when walking past him, smacking him lightly on the hip with some kind of comment like "sad sight, hermano" to which Carlos would reply with a loving "piss off" and that was kind of it.

So when Carlos one night - the twentyfirst night with his sister - tuned in on a scratchy and low but audible voice that seemed calming, yet awakening, it certainly brightened his mood.

Four days later, he was in Night Vale.

 

* * *

 

It took him a while to find a radio, let alone an apartment so he could start listening to the show again. Even longer for him to find out that the weird - eccentric, interesting, fascinating, - man with the pale eyes who had spoken to him the first day he got there was the voice of Night Vale. He'd missed that night's broadcast and he would learn, much later - a year to be exact - that if he hadn't, he'd have kissed Cecil much sooner - a year, probably, to be exact.

Admittedly, Cecil Palmer seemed weird at first. His face was long and thin, with sharp cheek bones and a long, straight nose and his eyes really were pale, almost milky white and more than slightly unnerving. He spoke as if he was excited about everything and if Carlos had to say one thing about him and one thing only, it would be that Cecil  _loved_ Night Vale. He spoke of it with such pride and devotion and Carlos had admittedly - embarrassingly  - found it cute from the start. Even the things that took Carlos longer to get used to - like the things that where very clearly there but not and the things that weren't but were - sounded completely natural coming from Cecil's mouth. His mouth was a whole other thing but Carlos tried not to think about that too much.

The way Carlos saw it, he'd been in love with Cecil a lot longer than it seemed, he'd just been confused and overwhelmed by everything Night Vale had to offer. Plus, a part of him still thought, despite everything Cecil had said on the radio, everything that had made Carlos splutter and blush and hide his face in his hands while his group of scientists giggled around him, that Cecil really didn't like him in  _that_ way. He kept reminding himself that maybe Cecil just admired him or envied him or liked him, liked him as a friend.

So he kept emphasizing that it was never for  _personal reasons_. He kept pretending that he didn't practically bloom every time Cecil complimented his work, kept pretending that he  _never_ stared at Cecil's long, fluttering fingers gesturing in the air, and that he  _never_ listened to Cecil's show just to hear his voice change in tone and curl around his inner ear. 

Carlos had always been a horrible liar, even when lying to himself.

It took one year, a bickering group of scientists, several phone calls from his sister ( _he's practically proposed to you on air and you haven't even asked him out yet?_ ) and a single post-it-note on his fridge that was signed FOW to wake Carlos up.

They'd met up in Old Town and Carlos hadn't been that nervous since High School. The fact that Cecil was wearing pants of something that looked mischieviously like fur would've been weird back home, but Carlos wasn't back home and he had never been happier of that. Once they'd actually gotten into Gino's, Carlos had mentally slapped himself for not doing this sooner. He talked and Cecil listened and Cecil talked and Carlos listened and  _didn't_ stare at any features of Cecil's face for any prolonged period of time,  _of course_ not.

The kiss had been the high light. Cecil had asked him if he needed  _help with that_ \- the shadow buzzing thing that Carlos didn't really care about - but he'd said no and given some lame excuse about being a scientist and independence because what if he'd said yes?

What if he'd said what he had been thinking for almost a year and invited Cecil inside? It would be too fast, too soon, so he just leaned over and kissed Cecil. Kissed his lips back from the sad downwards curl it had taken and broke away before the fire in his chest scorched them both.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a despicable human being.
> 
>  
> 
> This is so bad. I'm sorry. God. The next one will be better, I promise. Tell me if there's any mistakes. I'll see myself out.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, my lovelies :3 Feedback will be greatly appreciated.


End file.
